Chapter 49 First Grade
Emma crossed the street and noticed the car Heather had described to her from a distance. She approached it and knocked on the glass. The window squeaked and the car was unlocked. "Get in," Heather said as she reached for her seatbelt and buckled it.
"We could have just stayed at that coffee shop," Emma quipped as Heather confidently stepped onto the road. The sleek white vehicle surged forward as Heather pressed down on the gas pedal, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. The scenery outside the windows turned into a blur as the car picked up speed.
"What's the fun in that?" Heather retorted, her tone teasing. She pushed the gas pedal a little harder, and the car responded with a surge of power that sent a thrill down Emma’s spine. Her mind, however, was elsewhere, lost in her thoughts as she watched the street.
"We are here," Heather announced after seven minutes, her voice snapping Emma back to the present. She opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement, her gaze fixed on the coffee shop in front of them. The building stood modestly, an unassuming structure. The design caught the eye without being ostentatious. Parked cars lined the street in front of it, as if forming a welcome committee for patrons.
Heather's attention was rapt on the coffee shop, and her affection for the place was palpable. Emma followed suit, stepping out of the car and casting an appraising glance at the establishment.
"This is my favourite coffee house. Come on!" Heather beckoned, leading the way inside.
As they entered, the gentle chime of a bell announced their arrival. The air was alive with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Emma's surprise deepened when she noticed one of the employees addressing Heather with familiarity. "Miss Walls," the employee greeted, and Emma's curiosity was piqued.
She found herself trailing Heather through the cosy interior. They settled at a table that offered both privacy and a view, strategically positioned near a window.
"The black ivory, please," Heather ordered with an air of confidence, briefly glancing at the waitress before handing her the menu. Turning her attention to Emma, she asked, "What would you like to have?"
Emma took the menu in her hands and perused its contents. However, her excitement was cut short as her eyes landed on the prices. "$1,500 for a cup of coffee?" she exclaimed, her disbelief evident in her voice.
Heather's response was surprisingly nonchalant. "Is it too cheap?" she countered, her lips quirking into a playful smile.
Emma's inner voice was less composed. Cheap my foot, she thought, incredulous at the extravagance. Still, she managed to respond with a level tone. "I'm fine. I don't think I want coffee."
Heather's gaze held mischief as she handed the menu to the waitress. "Two cups," she ordered, her eyes returning to Emma. "It's my treat, remember."
Emma's thoughts protested, her sense of practicality crawling at the extravagance. Just because it's your treat doesn't mean you should throw money away on a cup of coffee. "Does drinking it make you glow, or is there gold inside?" With a wry grin tugging at her lips, Emma was forced to ask.
Heather responded with a chuckle. "The beans are simply too expensive. If you taste it, you will notice a difference between it and the ones you drink at home."
Was that supposed to be an insult? Emma reasoned. She laughed ruefully at Heather. "I am sure it is."
The waitress placed their coffee on the table, and the smell piqued Emma's interest. "Try it and you will see what I mean."
She took a sip and set it on the table, staring at the coffee in disbelief. "It tastes less bitter. Like chocolate, but the expensive kind."
"I told you you would enjoy it. Thank you for this,” Heather said to the waitress after. She took a sip from her cup.
Emma cleared her throat. It was time to put the question that had been bothering her since last night to rest. “Heather. Why are we here?”
“To enjoy coffee.” She sipped again.
"I mean, why are we really here?"
Heather focused her attention on her. “I bet you would have had so many things on your mind.” She was full of questions. "But do not worry; all I wanted to do was spend some time with you."
Are you kidding me, woman? Emma wanted to scream those words, but she kept her cool. "If you really wanted to spend time with me, you could have called in the morning or something."
“Why? Are you concerned that I might discover your secrets?" Emma choked and spat a small amount of coffee on herself. “Are you okay?” Heather was taken aback and immediately reached for the napkin and handed it to her. Emma nodded. “Are you sure?”
“I am fine. Thank you.” What secret does she know?
Heather laughed. “Don’t mind me. I am used to playing. I am sure you do not keep any secrets. You are just as innocent and popular as ever. Let us celebrate that." She lifted her cup. “Come on.”
This woman is insane. Emma groaned quietly to herself. Is she making fun of her? She raised her cup, her hand shaky, but she tried not to draw attention to it. “Cheers to that.” She quickly drank her coffee after clicking her cup with Heather's.
“I love Ezra.” Emma's heart raced at the suddenness of that word. She gave Heather a quick glance, but she said nothing. "I am prepared to fight for him in order to reclaim him."
“Well, that is good news," she said, her voice tinged with sadness but completely masking it.
"I hope you do not like him or intend to like him?"
“No.” Emma shook her head quickly. “No, I do not. Why would I do that? He is my boss, remember?”
"Ugh, I have heard that office romance is the best. I am going to take your word for it. That is why I called you out tonight. To confirm, so I can decide whether or not to pursue him, but since nothing is going on between you two and you do not have feelings for him, I am fine." She let out a sharp exhalation and reached for her cup.
Emma looked at her before her gaze was drawn out the window. She could not believe what had just occurred to her. She was simply cornered without realising it until it was too late. But it was all for the better. Ezra did not love her, so her love for him was meaningless. It was unrequited anyway. It had always been that way. She smiled and took a sip from her cup. “It is a really good coffee.”
Emma told Heather to return her to the location where she had been picked up. Heather refused. "Where will my manners be if I leave a pretty woman out here?" she asked. "I should give you a ride home."
"I will call a taxi. Thank you very much for the $1,500 coffee. I will remember to tell my future kids about it." She chuckled and waved to a passing taxi .
When she got out of the taxi, she sighed in exhaustion and gave the driver his money. She hoped she wouldn't have to meet Heather like this anymore. The day had been long, and the prospect of finally getting home made her feel relieved. The scene that greeted her as soon as she entered instantly made her tiredness disappear.
Zoe approached her sprinting, her excitement contagious. Emma found herself in a warm, enthusiastic hug before she had time to process the situation. "Why are you still awake at this hour? Where is Aunt Phoebe?" Emma asked.
"She is sleeping," Zoe explained with a small, sheepish grin. "I was waiting for you to come home."
Emma removed her shoes and arranged them smoothly on the rack. She gently ruffled Zoe's hair, trying to make sense of the occurrence of that unexpected late-night encounter. "Did anything good happen?" she wondered, her curiosity piqued.
Zoe's eyes sparkled with the kind of energy that could only come from a child's imagination. "Maybe? I took the test, and it was fun."
“Fun? Was it supposed to be fun?”
“It was.”
"Really?" Emma responded. She moved towards the living room, Zoe trailing close behind like a puppy.
"Yes. You got mail too. I think it is from my principal," Zoe explained. Aunt Phoebe had picked up the envelope and placed it on the kitchen table earlier, which Zoe quickly retrieved.
With a look of eagerness, Zoe handed Emma the envelope. Emma gave her a look. She commanded, half expecting a protest, "Bed, now."
Zoe had a determined look on her face as she defiantly shook her head. "I want to know," she insisted.
Emma let out a soft sigh, realising that arguing with Zoe was pointless at this point. She carefully opened the envelope, her fingers trembling slightly. She hoped it was the result of the test and not some sort of request. As she pulled out the letter and read its contents, her eyes widened in shock. “Oh my God.”
"What?" Zoe asked.
Emma lowered her gaze to the paper in her hand, her mind struggling to make sense of the information. "Third grade? How is that possible?" she murmured, her disbelief could be seen.
Zoe's face lit up with pure joy. "Yayy!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in joy.
“There is more.” She continued reading. If Zoe should be placed in this class at just 3, her life will be different from kids her age and mostly difficult. Emma looked down at Zoe.
“Go on. What is it, Emma?”
Emma immediately squeezed the paper. “Don’t ask me any more questions. Bed now! Go, go," she scolded.
As she bounced on her feet, Zoe's enthusiasm remained steady. "Can I tell Aunt Phoebe?" she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Tomorrow. It is late now, and Aunt Phoebe needs to sleep," Emma replied, gently but firmly guiding Zoe to her bedroom.
Back in the living room, she searched for her phone and called Olivia. She waited, biting her nails nervously as she heard the phone ring. It was on the third ring when she was about to give up that she heard a voice.
“Miss Facer?”
“Principal Olivia. I am glad you picked up. I am about to go crazy after reading your mail.”
“Oh that is what this is about. I was wondering why a superstar would call me. So what do you think?”
“What do I think? She is only three,” Emma said.
“Yes,” principal Olivia replied slowly. “And she also corrected the teacher’s math.”
There was silence.
“You placed her in third grade. That is a class for children three times her age, if not more.”
“I also stated that it will be difficult for her. Her friends, her social life. Miss Facer, that child is a genius.”
“So what do you suggest I do? I am going crazy.”
“If she is to be placed in third grade then she will need guidance. A mentor, maybe even special tutoring. Children like her… they don't just need lessons. They need understanding and I am scared for her too.”
“If that is the case then I don't think I want her in third grade. If it will affect her. No social life? She is a kid and she needs friends and I don't want anyone bullying my child just because she knows things.”
“I agree with you. I also don't want her in third grade. She might be intelligent but she doesn't have the emotional maturity for that class.” The principal sighed. “I think you need to give it some thought. I would suggest first grade. That is more reasonable even though she knows more but I want you to also think about it.”
Emma nodded. “I will get back to you then. Thank you.”
She sat down in the quiet room after the phone call ended, trying to process everything she heard that night. Then it clicked to her that she had to speak with Ezra in order to solve this.
"How come you did not tell me she lives in a shabby house like this?" Heather told Scott on the phone. She had followed Emma's taxi home and parked at a safe distance.
“You followed her home?”
"I had to find out where she lives. If I need a hair sample for the test, I have to break my way inside, don’t I?" She scoffed. “She thought I was her friend.” She laughed maniacally. “She has no idea what is coming to her.”